Beau. Of your acquaintance, and be hanged!
Sir Dav. Yes, to my knowledge there were several at Hounslow-heath, disguised in dirty petticoats, and cried brandy. I knew a sergeant of foot that was familiar with one of them all night in a ditch, and fancied him a woman; but the devil is powerful.
Beau. In short, you worthy villain of worship, that picture is mine, and I must have it, or I shall take an opportunity to kick your worship most inhumanly.
Sir Dav. Kick, sir!
Beau. Ay, sir, kick; 'tis a recreation I can show you.
Sir Dav. Sir, I am a free-born subject of England, and there are laws, look you, there are laws; so I say you are a rascal again, and now how will you help yourself, poor fool?
Beau. Hark you, friend, have not you a wife?
Sir Dav. I have a lady, sir—oh, and she's mightily taken with this picture of yours; she was so mightily proud of it, she could not forbear showing it me, and telling too who it was sent it her.
Beau. And has she been long a jilt? has she practised the trade for any time?